Brittle
by MinuSeveN
Summary: It was a natural progression. In another world, it could have been Taylor. EmmaxSophia


She thought, as they sat together, that this would have been something she would have done with Taylor.

"I wonder what it is like, kissing another girl."

They had their backs to the sofa, huddled together under a blanket, shoulders touching. On the screen, the protagonists kissed. As a dare, but it was obvious they were going to end up together. It was a movie after all. It had capes, but they were really just a pretext so that they could have their boy meets boy romance. Gay films were always better received when they had capes. Sophia turned her head to look at her and so Emma copied her.

The single raised eyebrow was a dare of its own. Sophia's lips were quirked in that small smirk of hers that seemed to mock the world for everything and nothing. They were close, so all Emma had to do was lean over. Lips simply touched.

Sophia didn't close her eyes, keeping them open and looking into hers. Emma didn't back down.

She disengaged in little to no time. Sophia cocked her head to the side.

"That wasn't a kiss."

It had barely even been a peck.

"Close your eyes."

"Why?" She challenged.

Because Emma wanted it like that. "I've heard it's better like that."

Sophia let her lids fall, but not all of the way, watching Emma. When she persisted, just looking at her, waiting for her to really close them, Sophia relented.

Sophia looked softer with her eyes closed. She always did and Emma liked watching her sleeping face. She parted her lips just the tiniest bit, a sliver. Emma licked her own and kissed her.

From lips slightly parted it became more. A tentative exploration. Awkward, fumbling. So strange, it seemed, for Sophia to be so shy. Emma liked it. She drew back minutely taking a breath, trembling, gathering her spirits, before plunging in again. With more conviction this time, more strength. She tried it in different ways, discovering, finding what felt better.

Everything was new.

Her arms settled around Sophia's waist under the blanket. She shifted her legs, finding a better position. Leverage. Sophia was smaller than her. She didn't pay attention to it normally. But now it seemed important. It made her loose grip become more realized. Pulling her closer.

The younger girl's hands came up and touched her shoulders. Her neck. Playing with the tips of her hair.

They parted just slightly. One last kiss. Slower, learned.

Emma opened her eyes. Sophia too. Lake blue and coffee brown.

"You need more practice." Challenges, always challenges from her.

"What would you know?" Soft. Rhetorical. Emma knew it and she would correct that. They would.

She let her weight press Sophia into the carpeted floor. Under her fingers, she felt muscles contracting. They were hard, steel under velvet. She loved it. Hidden power. With a sigh Emma rested her head on Sophia's shoulder, pinning her to the ground. Except not really. The deep, long, breaths against her ear took her away from the prattling and buzzing of the television. They were slow. Like an athlete's.

She let a hand trace the contour of the muscles on her arm. It was easy.

Sophia was like a panther.

She was relaxed now. Permission had been given to Emma, so she could stay like this. On top of the predator. But their positions could be reversed more than easily enough.

She didn't think too much about it. She marveled again at the pigmentation of the surface under her fingertips. She brushed them downwards until they intertwined with skin almost their own colour. Sophia's palms were lighter than the rest of her. Natural, but fascinating. When Emma was tanned, their colours actually matched.

"I like your skin."

Sophia purred next to her ear. "Not many do, in this town."

She nodded, let her other hand slide under a shirt and up toned sides. Rest over scars. She knew.

"I like your hair." A thumb came to caress stray strands away from her forehead.

Sophia didn't do praise. "Why?" Emma didn't know what she was asking.

"It's a pretty colour."

She lifted the russet strands. Under a sunbeam, they turned gold ruby and pyrite. Filaments of stained glass. Emma was the material to Sophia's immaterial. She was the wealth one could grab with their own two hands, fool's gold. Sophia was shadows, there but not.

She pretended her cheeks weren't warm with pleasure. "We could dye yours." It would look horrible with her skin.

A scoff. "Nah. I only like it on you."

She pretended her heart hadn't skipped a beat. "What if I dyed mine? Blonde, or something."

A hand clenched in her hair, painfully. Emma kept her face impassive. Sophia's voice was as detached as always. "Don't."

There were lines Emma couldn't cross, but they were as thin as a spider's web.

She kissed her again.


End file.
